A Tiny Ounce of Hope
by HermioneTwin
Summary: The great war was finally upon them, and Hermione finds herself on the very brink of destruction...'Give me reason to go on Malfoy! I'm desperate here! One tiny shred of hope is all I'm asking' She cried. And then, right then, all Hell froze over...


**A/N: I know, I know! I shouldn't be writing one-shots, I should be updating Why Me? ! I'm guilty, I admit it! "Bad Jess, bad Jess!" –hits head with lamp-…oww…anyway! I've just had this little one-shot in my head _forever_ and I just had to get it out of my system before it completely consumed my self-conscience! But, rest assured, chapter 7 is already half way done:)**

**This fic is a bit different from what I usually write, for those of you who know me by now! You'll find that it's a bit angsty at first, but don't worry, they all live happily ever after at the end, I swear!**

**Well, I hope that you like it! Enjoy my dears! **

**Jess:)**

**Disclaimer: Hmm…let me check my DNA again, just for good measure…nope, still not J.K! –sigh-**

**A tiny ounce of hope**

She stood there, unruly curls blowing in the wind, sticking to her pale tear streaked face, eyes glimmering with unshed tears and pain…pain too powerful and evil for an innocent girl like herself to behold at such a young age.

She just stood there, towering over the remnants of her life.

She felt so empty, cold and vulnerable. So many overpowering emotions coursed through her mind; she didn't know where to turn anymore.

The light of day brought on more pain and suffering; more of the unbearable reality that had become life. Her life.

It was the war, the great war that would decide everyone's fate… the one that they had all been waiting for.

They had seen it coming, had predicted the enemies strategies, planned tactics of their own, prepared potions, practiced spells, trained themselves through never-ending courses and obstacles…but no one had ever stopped to think of the emotional preparation that should have come beforehand.

And the result was this: They were winning, the Order was diminishing the Death Eaters numbers day after day, killing them and thinning their masters' strength…but they were killing themselves as well.

Yes, the war had affected them all. Their losses hadn't been great, but the battle had ever so slowly eaten them up inside. Few still smiled, and even fewer laughed. Conversations were always guarded and cold. There was an unwavering fear in the air, the Prophet never ceased to report more horrible attacks and the joy of life was slowly disappearing from everyone's lives.

Yes, the war was in fact affecting them all.

And Hermione wasn't an exception.

The darkness had been her companion and her safe haven for the past month…the darkness and the Astronomy Tower.

Here she had peace, or something similar to it anyway. Here, she could let her guard down and try to forget.

The Horcruxes may have been destroyed, but destroying their master was another story. An army of never ending Death Eaters protected him at all times, and before murdering the Dark Lord himself, they had no other choice but to kill every single one of his followers beforehand.

That had been her life since this dreadful year had started. Going out with the Order whenever a group of Death Eaters was located, and killing them.

She, along with the other students, remained at Hogwarts, for it was still the only safe place left.

Classes had long ago been canceled, for professors had given up hope on teaching after seeing the looks of despair and non-commitment on their pupils' faces. Concentration was nearly impossible, for everyone's minds were clearly still on the battlefield. But who could blame them?

Students mainly roamed the gloomy corridors, on the wait for these dark days to end.

"What end?" She silently whispered to herself. "How could this torture have an end?"

Another soundless tear crept down her colorless cheek as she gazed down at her bloodied hands. She turned them over to gaze at the damage that she had yet again inflicted upon herself.

Pain had been such a good outlet for all of her contained emotions. This wasn't the first time that Hermione had resorted to beating her hands bloody onto the cold stone walls of the tower.

It never changed anything. She hit, she scratched, she cried, she punched…and in the end, did it really do her any good?

The battle still raged on, lives were still taken, terror continued to reign. But the amount of pain from the beating did always give her something… she could forget. For one gorgeously relieving moment, her suffering gave her oblivion. Mind shattering, wonderful unconsciousness.

Did it help? No. But did she care? Never.

"Granger? What are you doing?"

Hermione whipped around at the sound of the intruder. Never before had she been disturbed here.

Her tired auburn eyes met dangerously piercing silver. Ah…him.

"What do you want Malfoy?" She quietly asked.

He merely shrugged.

Hermione exhaled before turning her gaze back to its previous observation point, her hands.

Draco Malfoy, as it turned out, was not evil. A bastard, yes, a spoiled brat, yes, an unbelievably enormous git, yes, but not evil.

He had turned up on the steps before the great oak doors of Hogwarts at the beginning of September, asking to come back to school and begging for forgiveness of his previous ways.

Many had been skeptical, Harry and Ron almost murdered him on the spot (Hermione smiled slightly at the memory). But, nonetheless, McGonagall had been kind enough to give him a second chance.

He turned out to be pretty useful to the Order. Having fled from the Death Eaters' circle (not an easy feat, I can tell you) he had a lot of valuable insider's information. Thanks to Malfoy, they were able to obtain many Death Eater locations and discover some of their future plans, which in fact had helped save many lives.

Hermione kept on staring at her bleeding hands, not trusting herself to speak or look him in the eye; her own eyes were probably still wet and her raspy voice would surely betray her crying. He may not be evil, but she still didn't like the idea of Draco Malfoy seeing her cry.

"Granger, what have you done to your hands?" Malfoy suddenly asked.

Hermione shoved her hands into her robe's pockets (a bit too late I might add).

"Nothing, Malfoy." She said flatly.

Malfoy shook his head. "So, scratched and bleeding mutilated hands are considered normal to you." He snapped.

Hermione was well aware of his piercing silver eyes trying to make contact with her own. She had no reply to what he had said however, so she tiredly replied, "Leave it Malfoy."

"No, I won't leave it." He said heatedly.

Hermione spun around in alarm and rage. Last time she checked, this was _her_ body, not _his._ She could do whatever the hell she wanted with it.

"Excuse me?" She asked venomously.

"I said, no I won't leave it." Malfoy repeated defiantly. He glared at her with those icy eyes of his, silently daring her to bite back.

She did not oblige to his unspoken dare however. She stubbornly stayed soundless, continuing the quiet staring contest between gray and brown.

Malfoy took the stillness as his queue to begin his rant.

"I've seen you come up here every night you know. Every single day, I've watched you. As soon as the sun sets, you creep up to this deserted tower and hide until the unbearable rays of sunlight stream through the darkened sky. You've beaten yourself against these walls more times than I can possibly count, and then you silently weep, drowning in your sorrow and despair until daylight comes. And then you fled back to the battlefield from which you came from."

"So, you've been stalking me have you?" Hermione bit out shakily through her quivering voice, thick with unshed tears.

"Call it what you like," he answered.

A few traitorous tears found their way down Hermione's cheek. That really had been her life these past months. It sounded so pathetic when he told it; almost repulsive.

"I just don't get it," he continued on, his gaze softening slightly after catching sight of Hermione's tears. "You're supposed to be the strong one, the endlessly brave one. Why do you collapse like this at night?" He quietly asked.

"Because, Malfoy, that's just it! I am supposed to be the strong and endlessly brave one! That's what everyone expects of me! Do you know what that's like? Having to constantly put an iron mask over your terror…to shield your doubt and misery from everyone else to see, day after day? There comes a time when you just can't take it anymore, okay! There comes a time when I just can't…I just can't…ugh!"

Hermione swung her fist with all her might onto the cold stonewall. A sickening 'crack' slashed through the chilly night air. Every single one of Hermione's fingers had been savagely broken, causing even more blood to flow freely from her wounded hand.

Malfoy stared at her with a mixture of terror and sadness before walking over to her shaking form and gently taking her broken hand into both of his. A simple healing spell on his behalf was all that was needed to mend her fingers, but there was no mending the broken feeling in her heart.

She was just so sick of it all! How could this of narrowed down to her life? She had been top of her class, Head-Girl, had great friends…her life had simply been laid down in front of her to be a huge success! And now this? How could this have happened? What could she _possibly _have ever done to deserve this complete and absolute Hell?

The silent tears trickling down Hermione's cheeks had now turned into full out sobs. She felt so pathetic, breaking down like this in front of Draco Malfoy…but damn it, damn it all there just comes a time when holding it in is not an option anymore!

Malfoy seemed a bit panicked at the prospect of being in the presence of a crying woman. After looking at her with a gaze of utter despair for a while, he opted that he'd better comfort her…bloody, insufferable know-it-all or not…

He gently took her into his arms and allowed the weeping girl to soak his robes through with her tears.

"I do know what it's like, Granger." He mumbled reluctantly.

"No you don't" Hermione choked out. "How can you possibly know how I feel, Malfoy?"

He sighed heavily. Talking about their feelings didn't come easy to Malfoys.

"I just…I know what it's like to hide behind a mask day in and day out. I know what it's like to shield your mind-set from everyone else, no matter how much you just feel like lashing out at the nearest living soul or to just completely break down. I know Granger." He muttered.

Hermione sniffled and pulled back a bit from the embrace to see his troubled face.

"What do you mean?" She asked, a little confused. Malfoy always seemed to have such a heart of stone.

He sighed again, resigning himself to explaining everything.

"You remember when I came back, right?" He asked. Hermione nodded. "Well, then you'll remember how everybody basically hated my guts and how their dearest ambition was to murder me in my sleep. I know that I constantly kept my haughty, unmoved mask on, but you have no idea how hard that time was. I already felt so incredibly guilty for what I had done…you have no damn clue how guilty, Granger. But circumstances were against me…I'm not saying that I didn't have a choice of doing what I did, but refusing would've meant a life of torture on my benefit and certain death for my father. Although, if I would've realized just how evil of a fucking bastard that man that I used to call father really was," Malfoy paused a few moments to breath deeply, "let's just say that I would gladly kill him with my own bear hands today." He spat.

"Anyway, you know as well as I do that never once, not even when my father managed to escape from Azkaban, did I show not even one tiny ounce of emotion. I can't, Granger. I can't, for the life of me, show emotion. And I know better than anyone does, what pure agony that can be." He finished sadly.

"How do you do it?" Hermione asked tearfully. "How do you cope with the feeling of never-ending concealment?"

Malfoy laughed grimly. "I have no idea. I just…live with it I guess."

"But how? I mean, I just keep on telling myself that it'll all be over soon, that once Harry kills Voldemort then this damn thing will be through with. But, honestly, how can you keep on hoping for a happy ending when all of this…this," she gestured wildly around with her hands, "when all of this misery and pain just keeps on happening.

Another tear ran down Hermione's cheek as a heavy sob escaped her lips.

"Give me a reason to go on Malfoy! I'm desperate here! One tiny shred of hope is all I'm asking!" She cried.

And then, right then, all Hell froze over…

For Draco's mouth had come crashing down onto Hermione's in a moment of full out despair.

Hermione gasped at the sudden contact, which he took as an opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth.

The thought of protesting crossed her mind in the form of a thousand warning sirens and flashing red lights, but Hermione quickly figured that protesting was not an option. This was the most alive that she had felt in months, and she would be damned if she didn't take advantage of that!

Her mind made up, Hermione threw her arms around his neck so that not a wisp of air could sneak its way between the two. Malfoy gripped Hermione's waist tightly as he back her up against the very wall that had broken her fingers but a few moments ago.

It was anything but soft and gentle. Their kiss could've been described as passionate and fervent as well as desperate and frantic at the same time.

Their tongues battled together for dominance, as her hands made their way into that angelic blond hair of his. Hermione abandoned herself completely against his touch as he rubbed trivial patterns onto her back.

The frightening world around them faded, and in its place a blurry haze of fireworks appeared.

Alas, they finally had to part as their lungs began to protest for air.

Hermione pulled back panting furiously. They both stared at each other for a while, eyes clouded with lust, until Mafloy broke their contact completely by disentangling his arms from around her waist.

He smiled at Hermione, extending one of his pale hands.

"Stay with me," He whispered, "and I'll give you a reason to go on, Granger."

Hermione grinned as she took his out-stretched hand, lacing her delicate fingers with his. He winked at her before leading them both down the rocky staircase from which they came.

Yes, war certainly creates strange bonds between people. Months of strain were still ahead of them, and they knew it, but at least they had each other.

There might be, after all, one tiny, little, ounce of hope.

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading guys, I hope you all liked it! )**

**Now…you see that pretty little purple button right there? Just a few centimeters below…do you see it? Good! Now, would you be a star and drop me a review…you know you wanna…**

**Luv you guys!**

**Jess:) **


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